


the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway

by johnllauren



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence and Mental Health Issues, Episode AU: s15e20 Carry On, First Kiss, Fix-It, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, s15e20 isn't real and can't hurt me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28963143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: It’s not that it gets easier. Dean just gets used to being on autopilot again. Sam helps because he always does, and so does that damn dog that he’s absolutely inseparable from now, and they don’t have a world to save anymore. The latter takes a surprising weight off Dean’s shoulders.
Relationships: Background Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 88





	the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway

**Author's Note:**

> i started this in november and it's been sitting in my google docs since then, but i figured i'd fix it up and post something for dean's birthday :) can't believe he's 42 and alive and happy.   
> this takes place after the events of 15x19 because 15x20 is stupid and i have decided to ignore it   
> title from going to georgia by the mountain goats!

It’s not that it gets easier. Dean just gets used to being on autopilot again. Sam helps because he always does, and so does that damn dog that he’s absolutely inseparable from now, and they don’t have a world to save anymore. The latter takes a surprising weight off Dean’s shoulders. 

Sam is worried about him, he knows, but part of him doesn’t even care about that now. He only knows the bare minimum, doesn’t know what Cas _said_ , but even that doesn’t stop him from spending hours with Dean trying to research the Empty, trying to find a way to get Cas back. For his part, Dean tries to throw himself into the project, but it doesn’t work when all he can think about is Cas and he _aches._ Sam doesn’t say anything. 

They go on a hunt, once, about a week after Jack had fixed things and too many days since Cas. It spooks both of them bad, and they end up in the bathroom of their motel room. Dean braces himself over the sink, screwing his eyes shut because he’s already lightheaded and looking at all his blood dripping into it definitely won’t help him. 

“Let me help,” Sam says. It isn’t a question, and Dean doesn’t get a chance to respond before Sam is cleaning the gash on his back.

“Fuck,” Dean says. 

“Sorry.” 

But Sam is quick, working with practiced ease, and when he’s done with Dean’s back he moves to his face, gently wiping off the blood. “Dean,” he says in that voice of his when he has something to say but doesn’t know how. 

Dean grimaces at the antiseptic and doesn’t respond. 

“Was this on purpose?” he finally asks.

“What, the almost dying?”

Sam swallows. “Yeah.” 

Dean shakes his head. “No. I just - wasn’t quick enough. Not enough sleep.” And for someone who’s survived off three to four hours of sleep for years, it reveals enough. Dean doesn’t talk about how he’s never been this slow, no matter how long it’s been since he’s last slept, how the kind of carelessness that almost got him stabbed is typical of someone who doesn’t _care_ if they get stabbed or not. But Sam doesn’t bring it up. 

“Right,” he says instead, stalling awkwardly for a second before he takes a deep breath and says, “Look, Dean, we did it. We saved everyone. You aren’t - you don’t have to be a weapon anymore.” 

Dean waits for Sam to finish with the cut above his eyebrow before he nods. “I know.” He thinks about how, years ago, that was all he wanted. And now they’ve finally done it, really done it, and all Dean can think about is the Cas-sized hole that seems to be everywhere he looks. His voice is rough, and neither of them say anything else, but later Dean is able to eat a full meal for the first time since Cas died. 

They get back to the bunker that night, and Dean lies awake on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Miracle is snoring next to him - who the fuck knew dogs could snore? - and he’s strangely thankful for it, because otherwise the silence would make his ears ring. Sleep doesn’t come, no matter how hard he tries, and he’s starting to feel guilty about looking up above him without saying anything. 

He talks to Jack for the first time that night. 

“Hey, Jack - no, that’s too weird, you’re god now, aren’t you. Hi, god? Fuck, that was bad too,” he runs his hand down his face. “Alright. Um. Our son who art in heaven.” 

“How’s it goin’ up there? I’m sure you’re, uh, doin’ a great job.” he says. “Listen. You know why I’m calling. You’re god, right? But I… know you love Cas. And you know that I - you know how I feel about him. So if you could - if you could get him out of there, give him what he deserves, a good afterlife, one that’ll make him happy?” 

Dean places his arm over his suspiciously wet eyes even though he’s pretty sure Jack isn’t looking at him. “Or if you could bring him back. Here. _Home._ ” He exhales. “I didn’t get to - I mean - I just want a happy ending.” His voice breaks and he feels especially pathetic about it because he’s talking about happy endings of all goddamn things. 

He doesn’t say anything else. The sobs come anyway, and his shoulders shake and his throat hurts from the effort it takes not to make any noise. Dean wakes Miracle up because of the way his shoulders are shaking the entire mattress, and his heart sinks when he sees the dog jolt awake, filling him with even _more_ guilt. But then Miracle is looking at him, head cocked to the side like he’s concerned. He moves to sit on Dean’s chest, licking the tears from Dean’s face. 

Dean pets the dog and cries. 

Sam doesn’t bring up any hunts after that, and Dean is silently thankful for it. He doesn’t want to think about the stupid shit he’d pull in the thick of a hunt, and now that they’re able to relax he can feel the exhaustion coursing through him, making his bones heavy. Instead, they carry on like normal - or, as normal as things can be - and research the Empty as an excuse to not talk about the mourning. Dean can hear Sam crying some nights, and he’s sure Sam can hear the same thing, but they don’t bring it up. They don’t have to. 

It’s another week before Dean tells him. 

They’re sitting at the table early in the morning, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. Breakfast is sizzling in the pan, and Miracle is looking very intently at the bacon as it cooks. Finally, Sam slides a mug Dean’s way, coffee prepared just the way Dean likes it, and Dean catches it like it’s second nature. Sam sits down across from him with his own cup of coffee, eyes fluttering shut as he takes the first sip. 

Dean exhales. “So.” 

Sam looks at him. “So.” 

“Cas said he loves me. Before he died.” Dean says, staring very intently at the wall. 

“Oh. _Oh,_ ” Sam says, “Dean - I - I’m so sorry,” and it sounds heartfelt, but not in the least surprised. 

Something twists in Dean’s chest. “Did you know?” he asks, and his voice is breaking. 

Sam pauses. And nods. 

“Since when?” Dean asks, searching Sam’s eyes, but his tone isn’t accusatory, just hurt. “Purgatory?” 

“Before then,” Sam answers, and before Dean can ask, “before the first time in Purgatory.” 

Dean swallows. “Did he tell you?”

“I asked,” Sam says, the ghost of a smile on his face, “He wasn’t happy I knew.” 

Dean moves a hand to cover his face, but Sam knows him well enough to know he’s tearing up anyway. “I didn’t - Sam, I didn’t think it was _possible._ ” 

“Dean…” Sam is _looking_ at him, and Dean doesn’t have the energy to pretend he wants to push him away. 

“I thought - he’s an angel, Sam. I thought the way we were… that it was all we’d ever have. I had _no idea._ If I had known, I would’ve _told him_ that I…” His voice breaks again, but this time it’s because he’s crying so hard he can’t get the words out. 

“I know, Dean. You don’t have to say it,” Sam says. “I’ve known for a long time.” 

But by now it’s less about telling Sam and more about telling himself, about letting the words escape his mouth. And isn’t that what Cas had said, how _happiness is in the being, in just saying it?_

“I love him,” Dean says, in one breath, and it feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes like that, but eventually the bacon gets charred and the smoke makes the dog go crazy. Sam gets up to handle it, but he rests his hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

Months go by in a terrible blur. They don’t get any closer to finding anything out about the Empty, and they sure as hell don’t want to call on another otherworldly being to help them. Sam does a surprisingly good job of not treating him like a hurt puppy, but Dean sure does act like one. Miracle never stops checking on him, laying on his chest on nights when he cries himself to sleep. And anyway, having a dog to take care of is good for him, gets him up in the morning, makes him happy when Miracle’s happy. 

It feels like the closest thing to normal Dean has ever had. 

They find Eileen a few weeks after Dean admits he loves Cas. Sam gets a call from her phone and freaks out over it, and Dean’s heart sinks when he remembers how Lucifer called him pretending to be Cas. But Eileen tells them where she is, and Sam is so happy Dean doesn’t even remind him about the Lucifer thing. The powers that be apparently spit her out of wherever she was only four hours away from them, and as soon as Sam hangs up they’re piling into the Impala, Miracle included. Sam smiles the whole way. 

It turns out not to be a trick: Eileen is really there, confused and freezing, but her face lights up as soon as she sees the car, and then her and Sam are running toward each other, and he lifts her up and spins her around as they kiss, laughing, and Dean can’t stop himself from smiling. He’s never seen Sam this happy, and he’s so happy for the two of them that he can’t even bring himself to feel sorry for himself about Cas. 

Eileen moves into the bunker with Sam and nothing really changes except they _smile_ now. It’s an adjustment, finding the right balance between being happy for Sam and also making faces at them when they’re too mushy. 

It’s what Sam deserves. 

There’s still no sign of Cas, and it still _hurts,_ and every day he loses more and more hope, but Sam and Eileen never complain about the research they still do once or twice a week. The two of them try to get Dean to talk to them about it, which he is very fundamentally against except for when things get bad, and even then he apologizes profusely the next day. He talks to Jack at night, and Jack doesn’t respond but something inside of Dean tells him he’s listening. Dean tries to work up the emotional stability to pray to Cas, but every time he tries he just dissolves into tears. 

Everything changes five months to the day since Cas died. 

Dean is looking at job applications on his computer when he hears a series of crashes, and immediately he’s out of bed sprinting to Sam’s door. Sam has already opened the door, the same terrified look on his face. 

“That wasn’t you?” Dean asks, and Sam shakes his head.

“The dog?” Eileen suggests, but Miracle is at Dean’s feet, running circles around them like he can sense the excitement. 

“Fuck,” Sam says, going back into his room to pick up a gun.

Dean unsheathes the dagger that he still keeps in his pocket, and then the three of them are running to the source of the noise, and it’s only when they get there that Dean realizes it had come from the same room Cas died in. His heartbeat picks up and, despite everything, he hopes. Eileen rests her hand on Dean’s arm, like she’s trying to warn him not to get too excited, but there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen. 

He opens the door. 

And there’s Cas. 

A little confused, a little worse for wear, but Cas. 

“ _Cas._ ” 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean grabs the doorframe to steady himself. “ _Cas,_ is that really you?”

“It’s really me,” Cas says. He smiles slightly, though the signs of worry are still clear in his eyes. “Jack needed me to help him redesign heaven. He wanted to be hands-off, but, well. He knew I wanted to come back. So he let me.” 

Dean finally embraces the smile that he’s been fighting since he laid his eyes on Cas, lets it spread across his face like he’s some kind of fool. “Cas.” 

They stand there, just staring at each other, until Sam pushes Dean’s shoulder and he stumbles into the room he hasn’t even tried to enter since Cas died. Since Cas told him. 

Cas speaks first. “Dean, I didn’t mean to make things between us-”

Dean shakes his head. “Cas, no, you didn’t-” 

“I said - I said what I did because I had to hold up my end of the deal, and I don’t want that to-”

“Dammit, Cas, I love you.” Dean says, finally, _finally,_ years too late and just right at the same time. 

Cas looks at him, dumbstruck. 

Dean realizes that as soon as he laid his eyes on Cas he forgot about the bunker, Sam and Eileen, the Empty, the rest of the world, until he can distantly hear footsteps retreating, and he realizes Sam and Eileen have left them alone. 

“I _love_ you,” Dean says again, almost pleading, because Cas still hasn’t said anything. 

Cas doesn’t speak, just takes a few steps closer. He places his hands on Dean’s hips and Dean wants to say it feels like a middle school dance but it _doesn’t,_ it feels like everything he’s wanted for years, everything he’s finally getting. 

And then Cas kisses him.


End file.
